Will somebody just kill Scott Stapp and get it over with?

This week, I read what is perhaps the most disturbing news story I've heard in a year and I'm going to share my pain with you. Brace yourself, because if you haven't heard it already, it will likely induce nausea, nightmares and numbness. This is normal. However, if you experience diarrhea, vomiting and/or seizures, call an ambulance and don't blame me. Are you ready? Here it is:

There exists in this world a Scott Stapp sex tape.

Breathe. Blink. Get your finger out of your throat. There is no turning back now. It's true, and we are just going to have to accept it. But brace yourself again because if that wasn't enough to send you over the edge, this might: the tape also features Kid Rock. And he and Scotty are getting blow jobs from groupies. No, no, don't pass out! Some good tranqs might be just what you need.

Now usually when this happens, I think, "Celebrity sex tape? Yes, please" and head right on over to Limewire for immediate review. I'm not ashamed to admit it; they are insanely entertaining. I mean, have you seen the Paris Hilton tape? Hilarious! The Fred Durst one made me want to pour bleach into my eyes, but the Colin Farrell one made up for it for Colin's quotes alone. And then there is, of course, the Holy Grail of celebrity sex tapes: Pam and Tommy. Does it get any better than Tommy Lee driving a boat and honking the horn WHILE NOT USING HIS HANDS? I submit that it does not.

As an aside, this all makes one wonder why celebrities continue to make sex tapes. Especially when the celebrity in question happens to be the biggest asshat on the planet. Oh, wait, what am I saying? Scott Stapp thinks he is god's gift to mankind, and thus has no problem taping himself and another guy getting waxed by what has to be the most desperate gaggle of groupies ever. It's just too bad for all of us that this shit was unleashed to the public. So, obviously, this is one tape I'm NEVER, ever going to check out, no matter how laughable it might be.

Scott Stapp's level of annoying surpasses even that of Fucker Carlson, author/psychobabbler Iyanla Vanzant and the cast of "Everybody Loves Raymond." His Eddie Vedder-lite behavior, hyper-sanctimonius lyrics, and messiah complex leads one to believe that this guy thinks he actually has hype to buy into. He probably spends his free time trying to tear up fish and bread to feed the starving audiences as he sings such inspiring lyrics as "I spent a day by the river/It was quiet and the wind stood still/I spent some time with nature /To remind me of all that's real." Whoa, that just blew my mind. God, has this shitbag ever written a song that doesn't contain the word "me"?

If he thinks he is headed for sainthood, he's right, because he has achieved well above the three required miracles needed to obtain that honor. Well, if by "miracle" you actually mean "behaving like a flaming asshole." The sheer number of asinine things this guy has done is a miracle in itself.

Miracle #1: In 2001, he punched a guy in a bar for "disrespecting" him by saying that he is "not a superstar" and that Pearl Jam is better. He also got into a fight with 311 and tried to hit on their girlfriends.

Miracle #2: He named his son Jagger.

Miracle #3: He got married last week and a mere one day later was arrested at an airport for being drunk and belligerant. He blew twice the legal limit on the breathalizer.

It's official: Scott is the Patron Saint of Douchebags! He's the kind of guy who acts like he's all godly and spiritual and self-righteous, but then runs around to strip clubs with copies of his CDs in the hopes that they'll play "My Own Prison" for the feature dance. Come to think of it, "my own prison" is being subjected to him.

So the moral of the story is this: if you are a celebrity, do not make a sex tape. And if you are Scott Stapp, do not do anything. Ever again. Because you suck.